At Teterboro Airport, Stone did his walk-around preflight inspection of the airplane while Dino stowed their luggage in the forward compartment. When he finished, Dino was standing, staring at the airplane. It was the first time he’d seen it, Stone reflected.
“Well, I like the paint job,” Dino said.
“Is that it?”
“The airplane is kind of pretty; it looks like it could fly, if it had to.”
Stone pushed him aboard and settled him in the copilot’s seat, then pulled up the stairs and closed the door. He got into the pilot’s seat, ran through the checklist, and started the engines.
Then he called Teterboro Clearance and got his IFR clearance for his first leg.
“How many times do we have to stop?” Dino asked.
“Twice, if we’re lucky. There’ll be very little in the way of headwinds today, maybe even a little tailwind. That’s unusual.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” Dino said.
Stone radioed Ground Control and got permission to taxi. Shortly, they were ready for takeoff.
Stone looked at Dino and saw a film of sweat on his forehead. “I turned on the air-conditioning,” he said. “Are you still hot?”
“I’ll be okay,” Dino said, mopping his brow.
It occurred to Stone that Dino might really be nervous about flying in the jet. “I’ll give you something to look at,” he said, pointing to the copilot’s Primary Flight Display. He pressed a button on the throttle and a wide, magenta V popped up on the screen. “When we take off, all I have to do is to keep the yellow V, which represents the airplane, nestled up against the magenta V, which represents our climb angle and course. As long as the two are together, we’re fine.”
“Okay,” Dino said, tightening his seat belt.
The tower called and cleared them for takeoff. Stone taxied onto Runway One, stopped the airplane, centered the heading control, and, with the brakes on, shoved the throttles all the way forward. The engines ran up, and he released the brakes. The little jet shot down the runway, and, at ninety knots, Stone rotated, pulling the yellow V up into the magenta V. He raised the landing gear and flaps, then, at 700 feet, he pressed the autopilot button and turned the heading bug to 040. At 1,500 feet, following the departure procedure, he turned to 280 and climbed to 2,000 feet, then the controller gave him 10,000 feet, and they were on their way.
Dino was staring at the PFD.
“It’s okay to look out the window now,” Stone said. “The autopilot is flying the airplane, and it is a better pilot than I.”
Dino looked around. “This isn’t bad,” he said. “It’s quieter than your old airplane, and smoother, too.”
“That’s the idea,” Stone said. The controller handed them off to New York Center, and they climbed to their final altitude of Flight Level 340, or 34,000 feet. Stone reduced power to the cruise detente on the throttles. “That’s it,” he said. “Now the airplane flies us to Wichita.”
Dino looked at the chart on the big panel display. “That looks like a long way.”
“See these two rings?” Stone said, pointing. “The dotted one is the distance we can fly and still have a forty-five-minute fuel reserve, and it falls beyond Wichita. The solid ring is the distance we can fly before dry tanks.”
“Let’s not fly that far,” Dino said.
“And we even have a little tailwind,” Stone said, pointing at the indicator.
They refueled at Wichita and took off again.
Dino handed Stone a sandwich and a Diet Coke from the ice drawer. “Where’s our next stop?”
“Santa Fe.”
“Why that far south?”
“We could refuel in Denver, but look,” he said, pointing at the display. “The Nexrad shows some thunderstorms over the Rockies, so we’ll go south of them to Santa Fe, then on to Santa Monica. The weather along that route is clear all the way.”
“Got it.”
They picked up three hours with the time change, and as they made their final turn on approach to Santa Monica, the sun was setting before them like a big red ball into the Pacific.
Stone left a refueling order. Then their rental car was brought out to the airplane, and they drove to Vance Calder’s home in Bel-Air.
“This is possibly the ritziest neighborhood in Greater Los Angeles,” Stone said, “and Vance owned eight acres of it.” They drove through the open gates and pulled up in front of the house.
Manolo awaited them with a luggage cart. His greeting was warm, and he led them through the house to the back garden, where the sumptuous guesthouse awaited them by the pool.
Stone and Dino had both stayed here before, and they settled in quickly.
“What time would you like dinner?” Manolo asked.
“Well, it’s three hours earlier here than in New York. How about nine?”
“Of course,” Manolo said, then left them to unpack.
They dined by the pool. The evening was cool and pleasant and the food delicious.
Stone’s cell phone went off. “Hello?”
“It’s Arrington,” she said. “There’s been a change of plans.”
3
Stone sighed. “What do you mean, a change in plans?”
“I want you to vote my shares for the sale of the studio.”
“I guess I’m tired after the flight,” Stone said. “I thought you just said you wanted me to vote your shares for the sale of the studio.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
“But what about Vance’s wishes?” Stone asked. “You said he had always wanted the studio to be closely held, not sold to some developer.”
“I wish I could follow his wishes, but I can’t,” Arrington said.
“What’s wrong, Arrington? Why the about-face?”
“I need the money.”
Stone was astounded. Arrington had been left a very wealthy woman at Vance’s death. “Arrington, I really am very tired after a long flight. Can I call you in the morning, and then we’ll find the best way to do this?”
“All right, but I’m not changing my mind again,” she said. “Good night.” She hung up.
Dino was looking at him. “She flip-flopped?”
“She flip-flopped.”
“Oh, well, what do you care?”
“I’m too tired to care right now,” Stone said. “I’m going to bed.” Ten minutes later, he was asleep.
Stone woke the following morning in a strange, sunlit room. It took him a moment to orient himself and to realize the phone was ringing. He struggled to sit up in bed and grab the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Stone? It’s Rick Barron,” a voice said. He sounded a lot younger than his ninety-odd years.
“Good morning, Rick,” Stone said. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long. Arrington called me a couple of days ago and said you were winging your way west.”
“Yes, and she suggested we have dinner. Would you and Glenna like to come here tonight?”
“We’d love that; I’ve always been a sucker for Carmen’s cooking. May we bring a guest?”
“Of course. Seven o’clock?”
“I see you remember L.A. is an early town. That’s perfect.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you,” Stone said. They said goodbye.
Someone rapped on Stone’s window, and he looked up to see Dino outside, wearing a terry robe. “Come on,” he shouted through the closed window. “Breakfast.”
Stone brushed his teeth and took his vitamin pill, then got into the guest robe and his slippers and went outside.
“I ordered for you,” Dino said, waving him to the seat on the other side of the table. “Man, you were out last night. Sleep well?”
“I think so; I don’t remember,” Stone said, taking a seat.
Manolo and Carmen were coming across the garden with trays. They set them before Stone and Dino and simultaneously took the covers away.
“Eggs Benedict!” Stone said. “My favorite.”
“I knew that,” Dino said.
“Oh, Manolo, Carmen: Rick and Glenna Barron are coming to dinner tonight at seven with another guest. I think you know the things they like.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Stone,” Manolo said. “We will be ready for them.” The couple returned to the kitchen.